Author's Note: This is the second try at writing this. First try turned into a drabble, which I'll post after I post this up, because I realized something quite astounding that is a major loophole for the I'm discovering that it's not about the movies, but rather . . . it's about different emotions that we feel that are connected with Transformers. So, here's another glimpse into those emotions, thoughts and feelings. I hope that I continue to do them justice, even as I continue to break the "fourth wall" of Transformers and continue to keep it as real as possible.
TL;DR version: Thank you for your patience, TF is only as important as the emotions we attach to it, and I hope that I can keep the tenderness and the realism in this story. Cheers!
He was singing again.
Chuckling at the bass tones smoothly emanating from the far corner of his medbay, Ratchet didn't stop moving as he continued cleaning up and organizing after having to do some routine maintenance on Bumblebee, who then promptly took off with Sam to go to Colorado.
The medic sighed, resting his hands upon the berth and soaking in the song. Granted, it was a human one, as were most of the songs he had been singing recently, but it was a song nevertheless. It was just another sign that even after all that had happened, he was willing and able to move forward. Thankfully, he was out of sight of the other mech sharing the room with him.
With all the publicity that the movies had been producing, Ratchet knew for a fact that it was a good thing that they had been doing everything to keep under the radar. If they didn't have the government to deal with, they would simply have to be dealing with the fanbase. That wasn't a pretty thought at all. He had seen what some of those fans wrote. Optimus had seen some of the older, quality writings as of 2007 when the first movie came out, but afterwards . . . things ran downhill, and while Ratchet was no prude, some of the things he had read had given him quite the shock. Reproducing and the act of creating a new Spark simply didn't work that way.
He began to mentally tick of who was where so that he could distract himself from remembering some of those awful . . . what were they called? Smut fics. Ironhide was in Texas with Lennox, his wife and daughter, on a ranch that was large enough to hide any itinerant Autobots. Bumblebee and Sam were going from place to place, not settling long enough to be known, doing under-the-table jobs to survive. Mikayla was going to college on the east coast under the name Victoria Smyth and was dating a nice boy by the name of Alessandro, and was thinking about going to college abroad in Italy because of him.
Ratchet and Optimus were hiding semi-underground in a decommissioned missile silo. It helped that they were also inhabiting part of the hollowed-out mountain as well. Sideswipe and the Twins Junior had arrived, and the one of the older set was proving to be a great help with keeping the youngsters in line while they were educated about Earth and other important subjects. Until they were level-headed enough to go out on their own and act responsibly, they were staying right where Prime and his CMO could modify their behaviors.
"Keeping the youngsters in line" usually involved not-so-carefully tossing them outside and into at least one boulder once night fell, so that they wouldn't be seen wrestling with each other or another mech. This was one point where Ratchet missed the other half of the Terrible Twins. Sunstreaker would have leveled both of them for a single scratch to his paint. Sideswipe had given up his paint and vibrant red coloration because of the damage the coat would often take because of his fights and mock-fights with the Twins Junior and Bumblebee, respectively.
But enough of them.
Ratchet enjoyed listening to the song drifting from the reclined bot behind the curtain. It wasn't much in the way of privacy right now, but out of necessity and for everyone's sanity, they had put Skids and Mudflap into their own room. Setting up walls to define rooms had proven to be harder than strategically knocking walls down to create larger rooms, and the med bay was the second-largest and the first-warmest room. The first-largest room had been delegated to being the commons.
". . . Salivili hipput tupput tapput äppyt tipput hilijalleen," came the bass voice again, causing Ratchet to bark a laugh when he searched the internet for the lyrics.
He called over, "Are you that bored with the English language that you've switched to Finnish already? And isn't that song supposed to be sung by a female with a much higher vocal range?"
His only reply was the stubborn opening line of the next verse. "Ievan suu oli vehnäsellä ko immeiset onnee toevotti . . ."
Laughing, finding the song "Ievan Polkka" highly fitting for the mech, Ratchet returned to his organizing and cleaning. He was not going to have a dirty medical bay when more arrivals came. He already had warning that Arcee and Jolt were going to be landing soon, and had a hunch that Prowl was not too far behind. He'd be glad when the tactician landed. Maybe he would be coming with his fellow Praxian, Bluestreak. It wouldn't hurt to have their sniper on Earth.
He was, as the humans put it, woolgathering. Smiling at how relative peace was proving to be detrimental to his mental state, he moved around the screen to stare at the mech still lying upon his back and singing, a datapad held above his head as he perused the internet. The song closed, and the mech murmured, "So."
"So. Finding anything to your liking?"
"The conspiracy sites about us are starting up again, but I have a feeling that it's funded by the United States government. The security levels that they have up around the servers and the ghost-drive servers are, by our standards, archaic. However, by their standards, it's tightly secure."
"Funny little creatures," Ratchet remarked with a chuckle.
"I could overwhelm their servers, crash the site, take the information I want and leave in under as second, but that's no way to be learning about who has been stalking us." The grin upon the grey metal face was contagious, and Ratchet found himself chuckling.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen."
"Hah, not likely. You've known me since before the war started, and you can see through the image I give to everyone around us."
"Mm. So, tell me about these rumor sites. Who have they targeted this time?" Taking the stool beside the berth, Ratchet contorted his torso and angled his head to be able to look at the screen.
"Ah, yes. I remember that place. One of the landing sites. Mine, actually."
"They're starting to link those together, but at the same time, they're looking in some of the wrong spots. These three," one finger highlighted the indicated pictures, "are nothing more than human artillery tests, caught by an odd camera angle and during either daybreak or sunset to add depth to the shadows."
"So how close are the humans to our tail?"
He got an amused look in reply as the datapad was rested upon the broad chest. "Think of us like one of their human pets. Let's say . . . a Doberman. This group is like a kitten who thinks themselves bigger and badder than they really are, trying to swipe their little claws into our tail, leaping up and almost getting it here or there . . . but the Doberman's tail is wagging as he's watching something else."
"Or finds the kitten amusing."
"Interesting way of putting it. Have they caught on to Bumblebee?"
"Not that I know of. You're mentioned as a possible alien, but in all honesty, all they have are long shots until someone gets true footage of us, or makes official contact. And with the way this country is being run right now and with the internal problems that they're experiencing, if they were to get their hands on one of us, I'd say that it would be a very bad thing."
Sighing at the call, he turned and yelled back, "In here!"
"Mudflap decided that trying to piss off Optimus was a good idea, and he needs some repairs!"
"Oh, for Primus' sake, Sideswipe, wasn't that your job?"
"I know! I'm insulted!" The silver head poked around the curtain. "How're you feeling, old men?"
"Once my frame's back ta full capacity, kid, I'm gonna wipe that smile offa yo' face with my foot." The voice that shook the air with its bass tones seemed out-of-place coming from the little mech, but at the same time, it was a threat that wasn't to be taken lightly. Jazz knew how to fight, and in his irritation, his accent came back full-force. His frame was slow in repairing itself since he had been revived due to Ratchet carefully using a piece of the AllSpark shard. Apparently, his jolted revival had caused Ratchet, Ironhide and Optimus to all fritz out while he fell into a restorative recharge cycle.
"Unfortunately in my case, he's just telling the truth and being a nuisance about it," Ratchet replied as he stood and shook his head. "Once Optimus has cooled off, I'll have him come in for an update briefing on what you've told me."
"Good plan, Doc. Oh, an' give that little piece of slag your worst. Ain' nobody allowed to copy Sideswipe's stupidity."
"Sadly," the other silver mech replied in a deadpan voice, "neither of them has Sunstreaker's personality. Double the stupid."
Laughing, Jazz went back to reading, already humming another song. It was to this background melody that Ratchet the Hatchet turned to the young set of twins and gave them enough of a chewing-out that they realized that if they were ever going to survive living incognito, they first had to learn how to survive the mechs that were in charge.
Jazz listened to the whines and heard the wrenches flying. Singing to himself, he grinned. It was good that those children would help keep Ratchet sharp and on his toes. As Sideswipe came around the curtain to settle in the spare cot/berth beside his own, pulling out another datapad to do his own searches, he heard the low murmur, "It's good to hear Ratchet singing the praises of someone else's lack of a logic computer for a change. He'd almost started to become docile."
Jazz couldn't help but laugh, returning to his singing with a renewed gusto. Ratchet sang an interesting song, that was absolutely true.
Closing Note: I figured that if a decent-sized shard of the AllSpark could bring Megatron back to life, with his massive body, then a much-smaller shard of the same thing could bring Jazz back. It's baffling as to why they didn't do this for Jazz if they theorized that it was possible.